QUG&JST  OF 

LITTLE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  QUEST 

of 

"LITTLE  BLESSING" 

By 

ANNA  TAGGART  CLARK 


Cover  Design  and  Illustrations  by  Howard  Willard 
Typography  by  Taylor's  Printery 


WARREN  T.  POTTER 

PUBLISHER  AND  BOOKMAKER 

LOS  ANGELES,  CAL. 


Copyright,  1916,  by 

WARREN  T.  POTTER 

All  Rights  Reserved 


PS 

£535*         °J 
0 


To 
My  Husband 


610509 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  BABY  ARRIVES  7 

II.    A  DOUBTFUL  MOTHER  -  12 

III.  OTHER  PEOPLE'S  CHILDREN  15 

IV.  To  VISIT  THE  QUEEN  -  21 
V.    PATRICIA  HAS  AN  IDEA  -  27 

VI.    FROM  A  NEW  VIEWPOINT     -  -  33 

VII.    SHIPS  THAT  PASS  IN  THE  NIGHT  41 

VIII.    A  ROSE  FOR  THE  QUEEN      -  -  48 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  BABY  ARRIVES 

"Birth,  through  whose  agonies  alone  women  are 
admitted  to  the  greatly  honorable  society  of  Mothers, 
brings  the  children,  whose  ways  and  speech  afford 
all  their  signs  and  passwords  after  the  great  initia 
tion." — Given  Peabody. 

kHE  good  time  had  begun  for 
both  Mama  and  Rosemary, 
for  a  new  baby  was  coming  to  the 
Sherwood  home  soon,  and  Mama 
told  Rosemary -the  wonderful  news. 
Rosemary,  being  eleven,  was  old 
enough  to  help,  and  worked  with 
Mama  out  of  school  hours,  sewing 
lace  and  embroidery  together  to  make  all 
sorts  of  lovely  and  useful  things.  While  they 
tied  the  dainty,  soft  blue  comfort  with  pink 
and  embroidered  the  carriage  afghan  cross- 
stitch,  they  visited  softly  (for  shy  Rosemary 
would  sometimes  talk  freely  to  Mama  alone) , 
on  this  order. 

"If  I  pray  for  a  sister  mornings  besides 
when  I  go  to  bed,  maybe   (just  maybe,  you 


8  The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

know),  maybe  won't  God  send  me  one  this 
time?  And  I  put  all  my  dolls  away  'cause  I'll 
never  want  a  doll  when  my  baby  gets  here." 
Or  else  she  would  whisper,  "I'm  praying 
regular,  Mama,  dear.  It's  a  job  to  remem 
ber  it  mornings  too,  but  you  see  I  only  prayed 
nights  for  a  sister  before  the  boys  came 
( Rosemary  was  possessed  of  two  mischievous 
brothers  of  eight  and  five  years),  and  either 
it  wasn't  praying  enough  or  else  maybe  there 
wasn't  girls  enough  to  go  round  and  we  had 
to  take  boys." 

"Why  Rosemary  Sherwood,  how  you  talk! 
Don't  you  love  your  brothers?  Think  what 
sweet  babies  they  were!" 

"Yes'm,"  and  Rosemary  was  hugging 
Mama.  "But  think  of  a  baby  girl  with  curls 
for  a  change,  that  liked  dolls  and  could  sleep 
with  me !  You  won't  have  to  bother  with 
her  at  all,  and  don't  you  worry  a  mite  if  she 
happens  to  come  some  day  when  you're  away 
or  busy.  I'll  be  here,  and  I'll  take  all  the  care 
of  her." 

And  so  it  happened  that  whether  it  was 
the  extra  praying  in  the  morning,  or  because 
there  were  this  time  enough  girls  to  go 
around,  that  the  tiny  baby  who  came  into  the 
Sherwood  household  to  stay,  a  few  weeks 
later,  was  a  girl,  and  Rosemary's  tongue  was 


The  Baby  Arrives 


now  unloosed  forever  on  that  enchanting 
topic,  "my  baby  sister." 

Such  a  cooing,  laughing  little  soul  as  the 
weeks  grew  into  months.  Papa  went  around 
singing,  "Hang  up  the  baby's  stocking,"  as 
Christmas  grew  near.  Mama  made  no  secret 
of  being  radiantly  happy.  Rosemary  had 
nothing  left  in  life  to  desire,  and  the  two  boys, 
Frank  and  Paul,  had  intervals  of  forgetting 
to  pound  each  other,  and  stood  on  their 
respective  heads  for  the  baby's  admiration  so 
long  that  Mama  was  afraid  of  serious  results. 

As  for  the  rattles,  bone  and  rubber  rings, 
and   brownie    dolls    in    the    fat   stocking    on 
Christmas  morning,  they  were  too  many  to 
tell.     Blessing   (for  so  they  called  her  as  a 
dear  pet  name  instead  of  her  own   rightful 
one  of  Margaret),  liked  best  a  big  blue  and 
white  leather  ball  soft  and  nice,  and  would 
point  her  small  finger  at  it,  creep  after  it,  and    «»* 
try  in  vain  to  stuff  it  into  her  mouth,   and     .v 
would  roll  it  back  and  forward  to  one  of  the '  l\ 
boys  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time.  V 

Rosemary's  dolls  soon  came  back  when  she  A 
found  out  how  they  amused  the  baby  as  she 
grew  larger,  and  Mama  Sherwood  watched 
the  performance  with  delight.  The  boys 
seated  or  lying  on  rugs  in  front  of  the  grate 
were  wrapped  in  admiration  for  Rosemary's 


\ 


10         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

talent  in  inventing  new  and  surprising  things 
for  the  dolls  to  do. 

Sometimes  the  older  child's  imagination 
ran  riot,  and  the  little  dolls,  Daisy,  Winifred. 
Peggy  and  Julia  were  stolen  by  gypsies  or 
blown  up  by  explosions,  Blessing  being  the 
most  interested  spectator  during  these  per 
formances.  Breathlessly  awaiting  their  prob 
able  fate,  and  pretending  to  cry  with  them, 
she  would  laugh  and  clap  her  fat  hands  when 
rescuing  parties  arrived  and  they  would  all 
make  merry  celebrating  the  joyful  climax. 

Later  on  when  Blessing  talked,  she  in 
vented  some  new  term  of  endearment  for 
each  member  of  the  family  almost  every  day. 
With  five  persons  watching  each  move,  and 
five  tongues  ready  to  tell  it  all,  it  was  indeed 
strange  that  the  little  soul  was  not  badly 
spoiled;  but  her  nature  seemed  to  be  imper 
vious  to  such  influences,  and  she  was  always 
the  same;  radiant  and  lovable,  generous  and 
helpful,  so  far  as  her  baby  strength  permitted. 

Mr.  Sherwood,  a  lawyer  in  comfortable 
circumstances,  had  his  office  in  New  York 
City,  but  his  home  in  Vinton,  fifty  miles  out. 
He,  as  well  as  his  wife,  being  heir  intellect 
ually  and  morally  of  a  long  line  of  honorable 
and  distinguished  ancestry,  took  Blessing  for 
granted  as  a  natural  sequence. 


The  Baby  Arrives  11 

"She  couldn't  be  anything  else!"  he  said 
when  the  boys  were  complaining  of  Blessing's 
liberality,  since  the  baby  had  become  alarm 
ingly  fond  of  giving  away  her  own  toys  and 
those  of  the  other  children  if  not  watched. 
"Then  why  are  the  boys  so  selfish?"  said 
Mrs.  Sherwood,  quickly.  "They  have  the 
same  blood  in  them." 

"Thrift,  my  dear,"  replied  her  husband. 
"In  a  girl  or  woman  you  would  call  it  econ 
omy  and  laud  it  to  the  skies." 

"Well,"  said  Paul,  "I  don't  care  if  she  is 
our  baby  she  can  just  let  my  stuff  alone.  I'll 
lick  that  Jones  boy  if  he  don't  give  back  my 
tops  she  gave  him  yesterday." 

Frank  added,  "that  aint  any  worse  than 
giving  my  knife  to  the  milkman.  She  did 
that,  and  I  got  it  back,  but  Blessing  only 
laughed." 


CHAPTER  II. 
A  DOUBTFUL  MOTHER 

"Never  comes  mortal  utterance  so  near  to  eternity 
as  when  a  child  utters  words  of  loving  praise  to  a 
Mother.  Every  syllable  drops  into  the  jewel  box  of 
her  memory,  to  be  treasured  for  ever  and  ever." 

—  George  B.  Lyon. 


®HEN  a  baby  talks  the  Angels  stop  and 
listen,  the  golden  harps  are  hushed  for 
a  moment  and  God  smiles,  thinking  of  the 
things  he  used  to  say  when  on  earth.  Bless 
ing's  little  heart  was  so  full  of  love  for  every 
one,  especially  "Mudder"  as  she  called  her, 
that  her  little  tongue  sang  all  day  long. 

"Poor  little  girl,"  said  Mama  one  day 
when  the  baby  hurt  her  finger.  Blessing 
looked  up  in  surprise,  "Bessed  (as  she  styled 
herself)  isn't  poor  'ittle  dirl."  Then  appar 
ently  thinking  of  her  richest  possession  and 
forgetting  the  hurt,  she  went  around  chant 
ing,  "Mudder,  Mudder,  dot  a  Mudder!" 
until  Mrs.  Sherwood  felt  almost  overwhelmed 
by  this  adoration  and  wondered  if  she  could 
live  up  to  it. 


A  Doubtful  Mother  1 3 

"I've  pulled  the  wool  over  Rosemary's 
eyes  so  far,"  she  confessed  to  her  husband 
one  night  in  the  privacy  of  their  room,  "that 
is,  I  think  I  have,  but  the  boys  see  through  me 
I  am  sure,  and  Blessing  will  in  time.  Mr. 
Sherwood  kissed  her  fondly,  and  for  the  thou 
sandth  time  assured  her  that  she  was  the 
most  wonderful  mother  on  earth. 

"Well,  I'm  not.  It  is  only  an  experiment 
anyway,  and  you  never  have  the  faintest  idea 
what  to  do  with  children,  being  all  different 
and  everything,  till  they  are  grown  up,  and 
it's  too  late." 

"You're  not  the  only  one.  Think  of  Eve 
and  on  down."  "I  don't  blame  Eve  for  mak 
ing  such  a  failure.  She  was  young,  every 
thing  new  to  her,  and  Adam  no  help,  but  of 
course,  folks  now  have  more  resources  than 
she  had,"  replied  Mrs.  Sherwood. 

"Anyway  you  are  wonderfully  looked  up 
to  now,"  said  Papa.  "Tonight  when  I  put 
Blessing  to  bed,  she  refused  to  say  her  little 
prayer,  and  when  I  said,  'Say  it,  darling,  and 
ask  Jesus  to  take  care  of  you,'  she  said,  'He 
doesn't  need  to,  I's  dot  a  Mudder'." 

It  surely  was  a  merry  little  circle  with  an 
occasional  interruption  of  some  sort.  Most 
of  the  diseases  known  to  children  had  been 
safely  disposed  of  before  Blessing  arrived. 


14        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

She,  however,  appeared  in  time  to  join  the 
rest  in  an  attack  of  scarlet  fever,  which  she 
did  so  promptly  and  thoroughly  that  her  life 
hung  on  a  thread  for  days,  and  great  was  the 
rejoicing  when  all  four  children  were  again 
about  and  well. 

In  emulation  of  some  boy  of  whom  they 
had  read,  the  boys  worked  on  a  doll  house 
for  Blessing,  while  all  were  convalescent,  and 
by  Mama's  slipping  down  to  the  store  for 
little  dolls  and  silvery  cribs  and  tables,  with 
Rosemary  to  make  tiny  covers  and  window 
hangings,  a  beautiful  gift  for  the  baby  was 
the  result,  her  third  birthday  drawing  near. 
No  one  could  suspect  the  wonderful  house 
had  once  been  a  cracker  box,  when  scraps  of 
carpet  were  tacked  down  in  the  upstairs,  and 
a  tin  stove  with  a  black  cook  presiding  over  it 
put  in  the  kitchen.  The  children  went  wild 
over  the  success  of  their  efforts,  and  could 
hardly  wait  to  give  it  to  the  baby. 


CHAPTER  III. 
OTHER  PEOPLE'S  CHILDREN 

'The  world  has  no  such  flower  in  any  land, 
And  no  such  pearl  in  any  gulf  or  sea, 
As  any  babe  on  any  Mother's  knee." 

— Swinburne. 

RS.  SHERWOOD  came  home  one  win 
ter  day  all  stirred  up.  Stopping  in  the 
grocery  store,  Mr.  Stebbins,  the  grocer,  told 
her  of  a  small  waif  who  came  in  that  morning 
to  warm  by  the  fire,  barefoot,  having  had  no 
shoes  all  winter. 

This  information  was  followed  by  more 
about  a  baby  girl  whose  mother  was  nearly 
dead  from  neglect  and  trouble.  "The  child 
is  about  the  age  of  little  Blessing,"  said  Mrs. 
Sherwood  while  repeating  all  this  to  her  hus 
band.  "When  she  was  rescued  from  her 
drunken  father,  her  little  half-starved  body 
was  covered  with  black  and  blue  bruises 
where  he  had  beaten  her." 

"Dreadful,"  murmured  Mr.  Sherwood. 
"But  really,  Minnie,  such  folks  are  hard  to 
help;  impossible,  I  might  say.  She  was  prob- 


1  6        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing' 

ably  sent  out  by  her  parents  to  attract  a  lot  of 
sympathy.  Suppose  they  are  loafing  at  home 
and  living  off  the  proceeds,  may  be  in  New 
York,  there's  no  telling.  I'd  like  to  see  a 
child  of  mine  up  to  that;  they  are  all  alike — 
a  trifling  set,  the  children  of  that  sort,  off 
scourings  of  the  earth  as  a  rule,  and  I  haven't 
any  patience  with  folks  like  Stebbins  who  drag 
them  to  the  surface  all  the  time,  or  with  these 
places  where  they  gather  them  together  for 
effect  to  support  a  lot  of  other  triflers,  draw 
ing  high  salaries." 

"He  didn't  drag  them,  they  came  them 
selves,  John,  and  you  know  very  well  how 
selfish  we  are,  especially  lately  since  Blessing 
came.  Why  Rosemary  and  I  have  made  her 
so  many  clothes,  she  can  never  wear  them  out, 
and  not  one  for  a  poor  child.  Our  little  cir 
cle  has  closed  in  until  we  don't  even  know 
about  other  children  and  their  troubles,  aside 
from  helping  them.  We  ought  to  wake  up." 

"Their  own  folks  are  the  ones  who  ought 
to  wake  up,  and  look  after  them,  and  keep 
them  off  the  street,"  said  her  husband.  "No 
one  with  any  sense  would  have  a  child  roam 
ing  around  the  country  anyway." 

"Well,  what  I  want  to  know  is  how  to  get 
out  of  this  rut,  John.  You  just  go  round  in  a 
circle,  and  end  right  where  you  began." 


Other  People's  Children  17 

"Oh,  don't  worry,"  and  Mr.  Sherwood 
buried  his  face  again  in  the  evening  paper. 
"I  happen  to  know  of  a  carload  of  clothes 
and  things  to  say  nothing  of  the  money  you 
have  given  to  help  the  poor  around  here  this 
winter.  I  know  I  came  up  missing  on  a  lot  of 
my  things.  You're  as  bad  as  the  baby  about 
giving,  and  then  you  think  you  don't  do  any 
thing — funny!  You  seem  to  think  we  can't 
even  love  our  own  children." 

"You  mix  a  person  up  so,"  and  Mama  had 
as  Frank  had  once  said,  "tears  in  her  voice." 
"I  don't  think  we  can  possibly  love  our  chil 
dren  too  much  —  the  right  kind  of  love,  I 
mean.  Only  I  think  we  could  love  and  be 
interested  in  other  children  too,  if  we  only 
began  to,  and  ours  not  suffer  at  all.  You 
know  that  verse  about  'Not  what  we  give,  but 
what  we  share.'  We  have  never  really  shared 
a  thing  in  our  lives,  and  we  never  worried 
about  it  either.  Neither  one  of  us  was  brought 
up  to  do  it.  We  just  dumped  things  on  folks 
that  we  didn't  want  ourselves,  and  that  they 
didn't  want  either  lots  of  times."  And  Mrs. 
Sherwood  left  for  the  kitchen,  glancing  back 
to  see  Blessing  climbing  on  papa's  knee. 

"Well,  what  did  the  baby  think  of  the  doll 
house?"  said  Papa  coming  in  the  next  night 
from  his  office.  It  had  been  Blessing's  birth- 


18         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

day  and  was  to  have  been  a  festive  occasion. 

"She  was  perfeckly  glad,"  said  Paul  look 
ing  up  from  the  field  of  battle  where  his  white 
marbles  were  ranged  as  enemies  against  the 
"glassies."  "She  clapped  her  hands  and 
looked  sweet,  and  kissed  us  and  went  to  play- 
ing." 

"Good,"  said  Papa,  starting  out  on  a  hunt 
for  Blessing  and  her  present;  finding  both, 
he  had  to  see  all  over  again  each  chair  and 
table  and  doll,  and  listen  to  the  story  from 
Rosemary  of  how"S'prised"the  little  one  was. 

"Mrs.  Jones  has  brought  her  little  girl 
along,  Rosemary,"  said  Mama  two  days 
afterward,  "and  I  want  you  to  try  and  amuse 
her  awhile." 

Mrs.  Jones  was  the  laundress.  Her  little 
girl  had  bright  red  hair  and  freckles  galore 
and  a  green  dress.  Rosemary  was  glad  to 
help  this  way  with  the  washing,  and  took 
Lucinda  in  to  see  the  doll  house  and  its  owner. 
Lucinda  was  so  surprised  that  her  freckles 
glowed  with  excitement  and  she  forgot  to  say 
"ma'am"  to  Rosemary  and  Blessing  each  time 
she  spoke  as  her  Mother  had  told  her  to  do. 

"Yike  'em,  dirl,"  asked  Blessing  solemnly 
after  the  children  had  played  awhile.  Lucinda 
stammered  an  embarrassed  "Yes." 

"Me  dive   'oo   some,   dirl.      Me  dive  'oo 


Other  People's  Children 


19 


"Me  dive  'oo  some,  dlrl.    Me  dive  'oo  dese." 


20        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

dese,"  and  Blessing  seized  a  large  handful  of 
furniture  and  the  mother  doll  with  an  infant 
in  its  silvery  crib  and  pressed  them  into  the 
child's  hand.  Lucinda's  eyes  grew  round  with 
delight. 

"Now  baby,  what  did  you  do  that  for," 
and  Mama  spoke  rather  sharply,  coming 
from  the  laundry  in  whose  damp  precincts 
Lucinda  had  appeared  to  show  her  mother 
her  presents,  so  blissfully  unconscious  of  any 
thing  out  of  the  way  that  Mrs.  Sherwood  was 
struck  dumb. 

"Me  has  too  muts  babies  and  too  muts 
tsairs  and  too  muts  tables  and  sins,"  said  the 
birdlike  voice.  "Poor  'ittle  dirls  hasn't  dot 
tsairs  and  tables  an'  me  dive  'em  some." 

"Mercy  on  us,"  groaned  Mrs.  Sherwood, 
"the  child  has  actually  given  away  the  cun 
ning  set  that  I — well,  never  mind!"  And  so 
little  by  little  the  doll  house  faded  away  until 
only  the  walls  and  a  few  small  pictures  re 
mained  as  a  reminder  of  former  glories. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
TO  VISIT  THE  QUEEN 

"Roclc-a-by  baby,  your  cradle  is  green, 
Papa's  a  nobleman,  mama's  a  queen  ; 
Frank  is  a  drummer  who  drums  for  the  king, 
And  Blessing's  a  lady  who  wears  a  gold  ring." 


^ORE,  more,"  begged  Blessing  as  Rose 
mary  was  rocking  her  to  sleep  one  after 
noon  in  early  spring.  "Put  Rosemary  and 
Paul  in  'e  song."  "Can't  darling,  don't  know 
how,"  replied  big  sister.  "More  keen  (queen) 
Bessed  wants  more  keen!"  So  Rosemary 
sang: 

"Pussy  cat,  pussy  cat,  where  have  you  been?" 
"I've  been  to  London  to  visit  the  queen." 
"Pussy  cat,  pussy  cat,  what  gave  she  you?" 
"She  gave  me  a  diamond  as  big  as  my  shoe." 
Mixing  up  the  song  somewhat,  but  baby 
didn't  care.     "Bid  as  Bessed's  shoe?"  "Yes— 
now  go  to  sleep." 

The  Sherwoods  were  old-fashioned  in  many 
or  most  particulars.  "Enough  rules  for 
health  and  not  too  many  for  love  and  com 
fort,"  was  the  first  and  great  commandment 


22         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

in  this  home,  and  so  each  child  in  turn  had 
been  comfortably  rocked  if  there  was  time 
and  anyone  wished  to  do  so. 

Blessing  closed  her  eyes  and  soon  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  but  before  the  sand  man  had 
quite  completed  the  job,  a  definite  thought 
was  fixed  in  her  little  brain.  She  would  like 
to  go  to  London,  wherever  or  whatever  that 
was  and  to  visit  the  queen.  She  did  not  know 
what  a  queen  was,  but  as  the  pussy  cat  went 
to  see  her,  she  thought  it  might  be  a  lady  with 
a  cow  so  that  the  kitty  could  have  plenty  of 
nice  milk.  As  to  the  diamond,  that  was  a 
minor  matter.  At  any  rate  when  she  waked 
up  she  would  go  there  and  find  out;  so  when 
her  nap  was  over  and  Blessing  was  attired 
in  her  new  red  dress  for  the  afternoon  the 
thought  was  still  there. 

Frank  and  Paul,  rushing  in  from  school 
like  a  whirlwind,  began  fussing  as  usual  over 
their  belongings.  To  divert  their  minds  and 
give  them  occupation,  Rosemary  left  Bless 
ing  in  their  care  while  she  went  to  find  her 
Mother  in  another  part  of  the  house. 

Afterward  the  boys  confessed  that  the  baby 
put  on  her  little  bonnet,  took  rag  Priscilla 
and  a  picture  book  in  her  arms  and  said  with 
dignity,  "Me  do  away  if  boys  carl"  (quarrel) 
and  walked  out  of  the  door.  Papa,  just  home 


To  Fisit  the  Queen 


23 


'Afterward  the  boys   confessed  that  the  baby  put  on  her 
bonnet     .     .     .     and  walked  out  of  the  door." 


24        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

from  the  city  was  resting  in  the  hammock, 
Maggie,  the  maid,  was  flirting  at  the  kitchen 
door  with  the  grocer's  boy,  and  Rosemary 
and  Mama  upstairs,  all  of  them  unconscious 
that  the  little  maid  had  set  sail  to  visit  the 
queen. 

Rosemary  soon  came  back  happily  hum 
ming  a  tune,  but  stopped  short  in  alarm  when 
she  discovered  the  door  and  gate  open,  the 
boys  still  wrangling  and  Blessing  not  visible 
anywhere. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  and  Maggie  were  called 
in  by  Papa,  who,  greatly  excited,  soundly 
spanked  each  boy  to  properly  start  proceed 
ings.  Maggie,  wringing  her  hands,  rushed 
from  house  to  house  to  obtain  help  in  search 
ing  for  the  precious  baby,  for  all  the  neigh 
bors  knew  her  and  her  loss  was  a  common 
sorrow. 

One  of  them,  Mrs.  Davis,  had  seen  her 
pattering  off  down  the  walk  and  supposed  one 
of  the  family  was  near  since  she  was  always 
so  closely  guarded.  "I  called  and  asked  her 
where  she  was  going,"  said  that  lady  almost 
in  tears;  "she  laughed  and  said  something  I 
couldn't  understand,  about  kitty  and  keen  and 
went  on,  but  I  surely  thought  one  of  the  chil 
dren  was  with  her." 

"You're  not  to  blame,"  said  Mr.  Sherwood 


To  f'isil  the  Queen  25 

heartily,  "the  rest  of  us  should  have  watched 
her  and  never  let  her  get  started,  but  she'll 
be  found  alright." 

Papa,  however,  was  wrong  for  once  at 
least.  The  large  force  doubled  and  trebled, 
searching  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  village 
and  surrounding  country  but  in  vain,  and  the 
home  that  in  the  morning  had  been  so  happy 
was  wrecked  and  ruined  when  the  sun  went 
down.  The  machinery  had  stopped  and  only 
one  baby  hand  could  set  it  in  motion  again. 
The  afternoon  and  long  night  wore  by  and 
still  the  child  was  not  found. 

O !  the  agony  of  suspense !  The  hell  of 
uncertainty!  As  Mrs.  Sherwood  walked  the 
floor  in  her  anguish  while  Rosemary  (dry- 
eyed  but  heart-broken),  tried  to  cheer  and 
comfort  her,  the  mother's  only  cry  was  of 
this,  the  horror  of  it  all. 

"Oh,  if  my  precious  baby  were  only  dead! 
Only  dead!  But  maybe  stolen  or  drowned 
or  suffering!  The  little  sheltered  darling! 
Oh,  God  in  heaven  have  mercy,  and  send  tid 
ings  of  her !" 

But  as  the  day  dragged  by  (how  can  it  be 
written) ,  little  Blessing  was  gone.  Gone  com 
pletely,  leaving  no  trace  behind  her.  Dis 
appeared  apparently  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

There  were  the  toys  in  the  nursery  as  she 


26         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

had  left  them,  the  horses  and  little  cotton 
dogs  and  Teddy  bears,  the  rooster  that 
walked  and  clapped  its  wings  and  crowed 
when  you  wound  it,  the  lion  that  hopped  and 
Rosemary's  six  dolls  in  the  corner,  but  no 
baby  to  play  with  them.  As  day  after  day 
passed  the  nursery  door  was  locked,  never  to 
be  opened  unless  the  child  came  home.  All 
of  the  distracted  father's  income  and  bank 
account  was  expended  on  detective  work,  men 
seeking  the  baby  all  over  the  broad  land,  all 
of  his  own  time  that  he  could  safely  spare 
from  the  bedside  of  his  prostrated  wife  also 
given  to  the  search,  but  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  V. 
PATRICIA  HAS  AN  IDEA 

"And  all  my  Mother  came  into  mine  eyes, 
And  gave  me  up  to  tears." 

— Shakespeare. 

GO  speak  correctly,  Blessing  had  not  set 
sail  at  all,  but  was  traveling  cheerfully 
along  toward  New  York  some  fifty  miles 
distant  from  Vinton,  where  the  Sherwoods 
resided.  Following  a  man  with  a  valise 
(whom  she  thought  seemed  to  be  going  to 
visit  the  queen),  she  reached  the  station  only 
a  few  blocks  distant  from  the  Sherwood 
home,  just  as  the  train  pulled  in.  Seeing  him 
go  up  some  ste"ps  Blessing  followed,  unnoticed 
by  the  station  agent,  and  assisted  by  the  por 
ter  who  thought  she  belonged  to  the  gentle 
man.  To  her  surprise  the  little  house  with 
red  plush  seats  and  pretty  windows  began  to 
move  (naturally  enough,  it  being  the  New 
York  limited),  and  Blessing  trotted  down  the 
aisle  looking  for  the  "keen"  as  happy  and 
bright  as  a  ray  of  sunshine. 

Mrs.   Kate   Flynn  was  returning  to  New 


28         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

York  from  a  visit  to  the  old  homestead  of  two 
rooms  in  the  factory  town  of  Millville,  where 
she  had  succeeded  in  overwhelming  her  former 
co-workers  in  the  factory  with  the  sight  of  her 
prosperity  as  evinced  by  outward  decoration. 

Blessing's  attention  was  thus  attracted  by 
the  exhibit  and  she  stopped  to  admire,  re 
marking  with  baby  laughter  in  baby  language 
upon  the  "pitty  fedders  on  'e  'adies  hat,"  the 
"pitty  wings  on  'e  'adies  finders,"  and  "the 
pitty  wed  on  'e  'adies  face,"  this  latter  calling 
forth  smiles  from  the  passengers  and  enrag 
ing  Mrs.  Flynn,  whose  cabaret  name  was 
Patricia  Garnette. 

Mrs.  Flynn  in  a  life  of  twenty-eight  years 
had  met  with  success  in  four  points.  She  had 
graduated  from  the  factory  into  married  life, 
had  succeeded  in  divorcing  her  husband,  had 
gone  to  New  York  to  live  and  lastly  was  the 
proud  possessor  of  a  "job"  in  a*  cabaret,  sing 
ing  shady  popular  songs  in  a  thin  little  voice 
while  dancing,  although  fearing  dismissal 
each  day  on  account  of  her  steadily  failing 
health  and  poor  work. 

Patricia,  as  she  now  styled  herself,  hated 
all  children  and  tried  to  encourage  the  baby 
to  move  on.  Blessing,  however,  was  fas 
cinated  by  the  display  and  climbing  up  on  the 
seat  by  the  lady,  sat  down,  placed  Priscilla 


Patricia  Has  an  Idea 


29 


'She  sang  loud  and  lustily. 


30         77/6-  Quest  of  "Lilllc  Blessing' 

carefully  by  her  side  and  began  singing  out 
of  her  book,  giving  sidelong  glances  mean 
while  at  the  lady's  face  and  beautiful  attire 
having  never  in  her  quiet  life  in  the  little  town 
of  Vinton  seen  anything  of  the  sort. 

She  sang  loud  and  lustily  (thus  she  was 
engaged  when  her  mother  was  weeping,  hav 
ing  discovered  her  loss),  causing  Kate  to 
look  at  her,  struck  with  an  idea,  an  unusual 
occurrence  for  her. 

Blessing's  little  book  which  she  had  picked 
up  as  she  started,  contained  the  music  as  well 
as  the  words  of  the  old  Mother  Goose 
rhymes,  and  beginning  at  the  first  page  the 
child  gave  quite  a  concert  upon  seeing  the  in 
terested  audience  in  the  adjoining  seats.  From 
Four  and  Twenty  Blackbirds,  Bo  Beep,  Jack 
and  Jill  and  Three  Blind  Mice,  she  went  on 
straight  through  to  Baa,  Baa,  Black  Sheep, 
singing  from  the  pictures  as  she  could  not 
read,  winding  up  with  "Wock  a  by  baby  on 
the  twee  top,"  at  which  point  she  lay  down 
the  book  and  rocked  back  and  forth  with  rag 
Priscilla,  as  Rosemary  and  Mama  rocked  her 
precious  self.  The  rocking  made  her  think 
and  she  woke  up,  suddenly  realizing  that  she 
was  among  strangers  and  began  to  cry. 

"Good  Lord,  kid,  shut  up,"  said  Kate, 
"where's  your  mother?"  "Me  wants  my 


Patricia  Has  an  Idea  3 1 

Mudder,  me  wants  my  Wosemary,"  and  the 
sobbing  grew  louder,  causing  Kate  at  length  to 
take  the  child  the  full  length  of  the  long  train, 
on  a  vigorous  hunt  for  the  child's  parents. 
No  one,  however,  .had  ever  seen  or  heard  of 
her,  all  were  listless  so  far  as  she  was  con 
cerned  and  engaged  in  gathering  up  their  be 
longings  preparatory  to  arriving  in  New  York, 
so  when  Patricia  Garnette  took  the  child's 
hand  and  led  her  forth  to  enter  a  new  chapter 
in  her  little  life,  no  one  noticed  or  cared. 

"My  little  niece,"  she  informed  the  land 
lady  of  the  cheap  boarding  house  near  the 
Bowery,  which  she  called  home.  "My  sister, 
she  died  a  year  ago  and  this  here  Bessie  is 
too  much  for  mother — goin'  to  keep  her  here 
awhile  and  let  her  sing  down  at  the  "Hy 
Jinks,"  this  being  the  place  where  Patricia 
was  singing,  none  too  sure  of  her  job. 

"Sing,  you  bet  your  life !  I  spent  all  the 
time  I  was  on  my  vacation  a-teaching  her 
them  songs  so  as  to  train  her  to  help  me." 

"Come  to  Auntie,  darlin',"  (for  through 
petting  and  coaxing  alone  would  she  sing) 
and  because  Blessing  had  never  known  an 
aunt  the  child  called  her  Auntie  as  easily  as 
any  other  name,  begging  for  "Mudder,"  and 
always  hearing,  "Yes,  Asthore,  to  you're 
Mudder  we'll  go  tomorrow  if  ye  sings  for  me 


32         77/6-  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

good  tonight."  To  explain  this  mother  search 
to  the  landlady,  Kate  said,  "Ye  see  she's 
huntin',  huntin'  ever  since  her  mother,  rest 
her  soul,  died,  and  we  humors  her  by  sayin' 
found  she  will  be  soon.  This  Rosie  she's 
always  talkin'  of?  Why  that's  the  sister  that 
is  older  an'  stayin'  with  my  mother.  She 
misses  her  of  course." 

Since  babies  so  soon  forget  and  are  so  eas 
ily  diverted,  Blessing  soon  settled  down  to 
her  own  daily  task  of  singing  little  songs  to 
queer  carousing  people,  thriving  on  impos 
sible  fare,  winning  friends  in  the  cheap  board 
ing  house  and  hardly  recognizable  in  the 
funny  cheap  costumes  gotten  up  by  Patricia. 
Always  hoping,  looking  and  often  crying  for 
Mudder,  consoled  by  Kate's  promises  of  find 
ing  her  tomorrow,  and  now  and  then  asking 
questions  about  the  "keen"  which,  not  under 
standing,  no  one  could  answer. 

The  woman  made  no  effort  to  find  her  par 
ents,  trusting  to  the  ready  Irish  wit  to  excuse 
herself  if  ever  found  out,  and  much  safer  in 
the  heart  of  New  York  City  than  any  place 
else.  In  her  way  she  was  good  to  Blessing, 
sleeping  with  her  and  feeling  her  own  sins 
press  upon  her  as  the  little  arms  twined 
around  her  neck  in  the  night  showing  her 
what  she  had  missed. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
FROM  A  NEW  VIEWPOINT 

"Oh,   to  come  home  once  more  when  the  dusk  is 

falling, 
To  see  the  nursery  lighted  and  the  children's 

table  spread ; 

'Mother!  Mother!  Mother!'  the  eager  voices  calling, 
The  baby  was  so  sleepy  that  she  had  to  go  to 
bed!'5 

— Unknown. 

GAN'T  you  try  and  brace  up,  darling?" 
said  Mr.  Sherwod  to  the  listless  invalid 
one  day.  "You  ought  to  think  of  the  rest  of 
us,  dearest,  even  if—  '  and  here  his  tears 
mingled  with  hers  and  for  a  time  nothing  was 
said.  Rosemary,  seated  at  the  head  of  the 
bed,  gently  stroked  the  mother's  brown  hair, 
where  here  and  there  a  silver  thread  was 
beginning  to  show  of  late. 

"I  do  try,  John  dear,  indeed  you  don't 
know  how  hard  I  try,  but  how  can  I  live? 
It  is  killing  me,  and  I  can't  help  it.  There's 
only  one  medicine  that  will  cure  my  trouble," 
and  the  faint  voice  again  dissolved  in  tears. 


34        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

And  indeed  it  seemed  for  a  month  that  Mr. 
Sherwood  was  destined  to  know  sorrow  on 
sorrow,  for  nothing  could  reach  such  a  mal 
ady,  and  even  Rosemary's  tender  care  had 
no  effect. 

"Well  sir,"  and  Dr.  Adams  coughed  vigor 
ously  when  consulted  for  the  fiftieth  time, 
"You  must  take  her  traveling.  New  sights, 
new  scenes  may  help  a  little,  but  I  don't  know, 
I  don't  know,"  and  the  rough  voice  shook. 
"In  bed  all  the  time?  Well,  pick  her  right 
up  and  start.  Yes,  it  is  the  only  hope.  Yes, 
Rosemary  had  better  go  along,  but  leave  the 
boys  behind.  They  would  worry  a  stone 
monument  into  nervous  prostration. 

Mrs.  Davis,  who  had  seen  Blessing  last, 
volunteered  to  take  the  boys  as  a  just  penance 
for  her  neglect  in  allowing  the  baby  to  go  on 
when  she  met  her,  and  promised  not  to  sleep 
day  or  night  unless  the  boys  were  under  lock 
and  key  or  chained  up,  or  words  to  that  effect, 
and  so  the  sad  house  was  locked  and  the 
lonely  trio  departed.  But  day  and  night  one 
thought  only  possessed  the  three,  often  un 
spoken  when  their  hearts  were  fullest:  "Bless 
ing,  darling  Blessing!" 

As  for  Rosemary,  she  alone  had  one  sor 
row  of  her  own  to  bear,  for  the  baby  had 
slept  with  her  always  and  not  even  the  father 


From  a  New  Viewpoint  35 

and  mother  knew  how  she  missed  the  dear 
arms  around  her  neck  at  night  and  the  dear 
head  on  her  shoulder.  Men  do  not  think  of 
some  of  these  things,  and  the  mother's  grief 
was  so  great  that  this  burden  was  poor  Rose 
mary's  to  carry  alone,  the  lonely  nights  her 
greatest  sorrow. 

LETTER  FROM  MR.  SHERWOOD  TO 
DR.  ADAMS 

"Yes,  I  see  a  slight  change  in  her,  a  faint 
interest  in  life,  or  rather  to  speak  exactly, 
some  interest  in  a  little  child  we  saw  on  the 
platform  as  we  passed  through  a  small  sta 
tion.  It  was  a  homely  youngster,  Doctor,  but 
so  poor  and  neglected  and  hungry  looking, 
we  both  felt  sorry  for  it.  Suppose  that — but 
to  go  on:  Rosemary  stepped  out  and  gave  it 
part  of  the  lunch  we  had  with  us  and  you 
should  have  seen  it.  It  reminded  me  of  a 
young  wolf.  Whose  child  was  it,  I  wonder? 
Maybe  someone  is  seeking  it  now!" 

Dr.  Adams  wiped  his  glasses.  "Sherwood 
is  going  to  come  out  all  right,"  he  said. 
"Prejudiced  and  one-sided — too  much  of  an 
aristocrat  and  not  sympathetic  except  to  his 
own  family,  but  with  a  big  heart  if  it  could 
have  a  chance.  Sometimes  a  hard  frost  does 


36        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

wonders  and  this  one  may  work  a  miracle. 
Stranger  things  have  happened." 

LETTER  FROM  FRANK  TO  HIS 
MOTHER 

"Mama,  dearest,  Paul  and  i  are  Going  to 
be  good  and  we  are  sorry  we  have  been  act 
ing  so  bad.  Paul  says  he  loves  you  very 
mutch  and  he  is  Sorry  he  made  Blessing  run 
away,  i  think  you  are  verry  dear,  and  i  Re 
member  how  Papa  told  me  he  stood  up  on  a 
horse  once,  when  it  was  Running,  i  will  try 
and  Do  the  same,  so  goodbye.  Paul  is  sorey 
he  is  stingy,  and  so  am  i,  for  i  want  his  nife. 
Your  loving, 

Frank." 

This  letter  aroused  the  mother.  What 
were  the  boys  doing?  Were  they  riding  wild 
horses  daily?  What  if  one  more  chapter 
should  be  added  to  the  book  of  trouble! 
Three  months  of  travel  had  done  very  little 
in  the  way  of  improving  Mrs.  Sherwood's 
condition.  Search  was  still  being  carried  on 
all  over  the  country,  and  daily  reports  of 
failure  came  in.  As  the  sorrow  and  its  cer 
tainty  grew  and  grew  upon  them,  an  idea  was 
one  day  timidly  broached  by  Mr.  Sherwood 


From  a  New  Viewpoint  37 

when  his  wife  suggested  that  they  would 
really  have  to  stop  traveling  and  go  home; 
that  although  they  had  paid  the  boys'  board 
regularly  yet  money  could  never  compensate 
Mrs.  Davis  for  her  anxiety  and  trouble  in 
caring  for  them. 

"Well  yes,  dear,  I  suppose  we  must  go  back 
to  the  dark  house  sometime  and  I've  been 
thinking  maybe  you  might  for  my  sake  (look 
at  it  that  way,  Minnie),  let  me  hunt  up  a 
little  girl  the  age  of  Blessing  and  take  her 
back  with  us.  No,  don't  cry,  dear.  Of  course, 
no  one  could  ever  take  her  place,  but  when 
we  were  in  New  York  City  I  visited  some 
orphanages  and  in  Cincinnati  the  Children's 
Home,  and  I  tell  you  my  views  have  changed, 
thinking  of  Blessing." 

And  it  came  out  at  last,  that  Mr.  Sherwood 
had  not  only  visited  homes  and  temporary 
shelters  for  children,  but  had  helped  little 
waifs  with  money  and  clothing  many  times 
since  leaving  home,  all  on  Blessing's  account. 
In  short,  as  Dr.  Adams  said,  the  hard  frost 
was  doing  its  work  and  the  burr  was  begin 
ning  to  open.  And  when  it  did  open  what  a 
splendid  character  inside!  Indeed,  it  was 
Mrs.  Sherwood  who  fell  behind  when  it  came 
to  the  question  of  taking  anyone  in  Blessing's 
place.  The  mother  heart  was  different,  and 


38         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

it  was  only  her  deep  love  for  childhood  itself 
that  ever  made  her  give  a  half-hearted  con 
sent.  But  Rosemary,  gentle  and  unselfish, 
always,  rebelled.  She  had  not  the  years  nor 
the  deep  experiences  of  the  best  in  life  which 
come  only  with  years,  and  her  heart  was  sore. 

"How  can  I  do  it  Mama,  dearest?"  she 
wept.  "My  sweetest  baby  sister!  She  loved 
me  so  !  Every  night  she  would  say  "Me  'oves 
'oo,"  when  she  would  wake  up  and  put  her 
little  arms  round  my  neck.  I  never  could 
stand  it.  I  believe  I  should  just  hate  anyone 
taking  her  place  and  playing  with  her  things 
and  all." 

"You  wouldn't  need  to  have  her  with  you 
much,  dearest,"  and  Mama  stroked  the  dark 
head  caressingly.  "I  know  just  how  you  feel 
for  I  feel  that  way  at  times  myself,  but  Papa 
is  so  anxious  and  we  have  to  face  it  some 
time." 

But  Rosemary  still  refused  to  consent  to 
what  seemed  an  impossible  thing  to  endure. 
One  day  later,  as  she  sat  quietly  thinking  and 
grieving,  she  seemed  to  see  the  lost  baby 
again  seated  on  the  floor  by  the  doll  house 
giving  her  toys  away  to  Lucinda,  and  saying 
in  her  sweet  little  voice  that  she  had  too  many 
of  them  and  wanted  to  share  her  treasures 
with  the  poorer  child,  and  then  it  dawned  on 


From  a  New  Viewpoint  39 

Rosemary's  young  soul  what  little  Blessing 
would  say  now.  If  she  could  speak  would  it 
not  be  the  wish  of  the  liberal  little  child  to 
give  the  best  legacy,  her  home,  to  some  needy 
and  unfortunate  baby?  Rosemary's  heart 
said  "yes,"  and  although  reluctantly,  her  lips 
gave  their  assent. 

"I'll  try,  Mama,  truly  I  will.  I  won't  hate 
her,  but  I  can't  promise  to  love  her.  I'll  just 
stand  her,"  and  with  this  the  mother  had  to 
be  satisfied  for  no  more  would  Rosemary 
yield. 

A  few  days  later  the  search  was  begun 
afresh,  this  time  for  a  child  of  misfortune. 
To  all  such  their  hearts  were  tender,  but  we 
who  love  our  own  darlings  cannot  blame  them 
if  they  were  apparently  over  careful  and 
anxious  about  it.  A  week,  two  weeks,  three 
weeks  went  by,  and  still  they  traveled  and 
looked.  They  visited  institutions  for  their 
care.  They  followed  dozens  of  them  home 
on  the  streets,  but  still  found  no  one  who 
seemed  a  possible  child  to  love  and  keep, 
no  one  in  the  least  resembling  the  precious 
lost  baby. 

The  process  of  visiting  these  homes  for 
homeless  waifs,  where  children  might  be  had 
for  adoption  was  a  fruitful  one,  even  though 
fruitless  so  far  as  finding  the  right  kind  of 


40        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

a  child.  Mr.  Sherwood  found  his  interest 
really  awakened,  not  only  in  the  children 
themselves,  but  in  their  temporary  parents 
and  guardians.  He  sat  in  the  office  of  the 
superintendent  of  one  of  the  homes  one  morn 
ing  for  two  hours,  and  heard  the  tales  of  sor 
row,  saw  the  starved  and  neglected  and 
abused  children  brought  in  and  found  out  that 
he  himself  would  prefer  any  other  occupation 
rather  than  to  be  the  receptacle  of  the  woes 
of  the  universe.  He  found  his  heart  warm 
ing  and  his  respect  increasing  for  these  men 
who  had  turned  their  backs  on  riches  and 
preferment,  for  the  good  they  might  do  unto 
the  "least  of  these,"  and  he  confessed  to  his 
wife  his  injustice  in  judging  them  without 
knowing  the  real  facts;  and  thus,  through  the 
loss  of  little  Blessing  was  unconsciously  grow 
ing  into  a  fuller  and  more  complete  manhood. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
SHIPS  THAT  PASS  IN  THE  NIGHT 

"A  child's  first  steps  are  toward  his  Mother;  the 
rest  are  too  often  away  from  her." 

— Bannister. 

GWICE  did  the  voyagers  almost  cast 
anchor  in  the  same  port  as  the  darling 
for  whom  they  sought.  First,  when  starting 
on  the  trip,  and  spending  a  few  days  in  New 
York  in  order  to  put  in  motion  new  plans  of 
search  for  the  baby.  No  place  is  so  safe  as 
a  great  city  if  one  wishes  to  hide,  and  no  one 
more  secure  than  Kate  Flynn  to  openly  take 
this  child  of  love  and  longing  back  and  for 
ward  to  the  cafe,  piecing  out  her  own  piti 
fully  deficient  work  by  the  child's  sweet 
songs  and  winsome  ways.  A  little  winding 
street  car,  relic  of  early  days,  upon  which  she 
rode  with  the  child  in  secure  privacy  passed 
almost  by  the  door  of  the  Hy  Jinks  cafe.  At 
any  rate  being  almost  desperate  this  was  her 
one  chance  of  holding  her  "job."  "Maybe 
your  Mama  will  be  there,  darlin',"  Kate 
would  say  and  would  always  whisper  to  Bless- 


42         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

ing,  "Sing  for  Mudder  so  if  she  comes  in, 
she'll  find  you." 

Mr.  Sherwood,  meeting  by  accident  a 
friend  of  school  days,  now  a  florid  traveling 
salesman,  Jim  Berger,  who  always  took  in  the 
sights,  was  greeted  with  hearty  words  and  a 
cordial  invitation  to  accompany  him  to  the 
Hy  Jinks  cafe  to  dinner.  "I  hear  that  the 
singer  there  has  her  little  niece,  a  child  of 
three  with  her,  singing,  and  they  say  it  is  great 
— Mother  Goose  rhymes,  rag  doll  and  that 
stuff.'; 

This  invitation  followed  by  profuse  apolo 
gies  when  informed  of  the  Sherwood's  great 
loss.  "I  wouldn't  go  anyway  Berger,  even 
if  we  were  not  in  such  trouble.  Anyone  of 
that  class  exploiting  a  child  for  gain  should 
not  be  encouraged,"  said  Mr.  Sherwood  in 
a  coldly  critical  tone. 

A  month  or  so  later,  while  on  their  long 
trip,  meeting  the  same  friend  farther  West, 
Mr.  Berger  said  -  "By  George,  Sherwood, 
you'll  never  know  what  you  missed.  That 
kid  was  the  cutest  thing  you  ever  saw,  and  I 
just  dropped  in  at  the  right  time  for  it  was 
the  last  night." 

"How  was  that,"  responded  Mr.  Sher 
wood. 

The  man  chuckled  reminiscently.     "Well, 


Ships  That  Pass  in  the  Night         43 

you  see  the  youngster  was  tired  and  sleepy. 
Her  aunt  had  been  making  her  sing  all  after 
noon  and  evening.  It  was  twelve  o'clock 
when  I  got  there  and  a  bunch  of  fellows  had 
dropped  in  to  hear  her.  Old  Lyle  and  some 
chorus  girls  and  a  few  other  men  whose  wives 
were  away.  I  wasn't  near  enough  to  see  just 
what  happened,  but  the  fellows  said  that  the 
kid  tried  to  rock  and  sing  and  nearly  went  to 
sleep,  and  then  toddled  over  to  her  aunt  and 
climbed  up  in  her  lap,  put  her  head  on  her 
shoulder  and  reeled  off  something  about  want 
ing  to  say  her  prayer  and  go  to  bed  and  sug 
gested  that  all  these  ladies  (pointing  at  the 
chorus  girls  who  still  had  their  war  paint  on) , 
also  wished  to  say  their  prayers  and  go  to 
bed.  The  boys  said  the  girls  gasped  and 
looked  daggers.  You  ought  to  have  seen 
them  scatter,  saying  they  didn't  come  there 
to  be  insulted.  I  heard  them  talking  as  they 
went  out  (guess  a  few  of  the  men  went  home 
to  take  a  look  at  their  own  children),  and 
Patricia  was  fired." 

"Wish  I  had  gone  to  see  her,"  Mr.  Sher 
wood  replied. 

"Well,  I  went  up  to  get  a  drink  after 
ward,"  said  his  acquaintance,  "and  the  bar 
tender  told  me  he  was  glad  to  get  rid  of  them 
for  his  sales  had  dropped  off  forty  per  cent 


44        The  Quest  of  ''Little  Blessing" 

since  the  child  began  singing.  Said  they 
would  flock  in  and  stand  and  listen,  and  then 
just  ooze  away  without  even  a  gingerale.  The 
proprietor  said  he  wasn't  running  a  Wednes 
day  night  prayer-meeting  or  didn't  start  out 
to  at  least." 

The  second  time,  when  the  large  and  small 
barques  passed  almost  within  hailing  distance, 
was  in  San  Francisco  some  five  months  after 
Blessing's  disappearance  as  the  Sherwood's 
were  leaving  for  a  tour  of  Southern  Califor 
nia,  having  about  decided  to  take  some  child 
home  in  her  place. 

Mr.  Sherwood  came  into  the  room  at  the 
hotel,  removed  his  hat,  kissed  his  wife,  and 
sat  down  saying,  "Well,  this  has  been  an  ex 
pensive  morning.  Cost  me  just  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  to  ask  a  question."  "What 
question?"  responded  his  wife  quickly,  think 
ing  of  the  things  she  could  do  with  that 
amount  if  she  could  ever  get  hold  of  it  all  at 
once.  "I  said  to  the  clerk,  'who  is  that 
bright  looking  fellow?' ' 

"Who  was  he?  Do  go  on,"  and  Mrs.  Sher 
wood  showed  the  first  real  interest  in  anything 
since  her  trouble. 

"The  clerk  knows  him  well.  He  has  been 
out  here  months  trying  to  work  out  a  patent 
and  his  money  gave  out  just  as  he  had  it  com- 


Ships  That  Pass  in  the  Night         45 

pleted.  You  know  how  California  is.  Peo 
ple  flock  here  by  the  wholesale  and  can't  find 
work,  or  live  on  the  climate  and  scenery,  get 
discouraged  and  lots  of  them  leave  by  the 
only  route  that  carries  them  free,  suicide." 

"Yes,"  assented  his  wife,  with  a  new  feel 
ing  that  others  had  trouble  beside  herself. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "I  talked  to  the  boy 
for  he  wasn't  over  twenty-four  or  so.  Found 
that  he  had  tried  everywhere  to  borrow  the 
money  to  finish  up  and  make  some  money  out 
of  his  patent,  and  couldn't  find  a  cent.  Said 
he  was  desperate  and  contemplating  ending 
it  all  last  night,  but  had  started  out  to  make 
one  more  effort  to  borrow  the  money  this 
morning." 

"I  wondered  what  happened  to  make  him 
more  hopeful  and  willing  to  try  again?  He 
told  me.  He  said  he  was  staying  at  a  cheap 
place  down  by  the  ferry  and  a  queer  sort  of 
woman  blew  in  with  a  little  niece  of  hers. 
Sort  of  third  rate  vaudeville  and  cabaret 
singer,  but  the  child  was  lovely,  didn't  resem 
ble  her  at  all.  It  seems  he  sat  after  dinner 
debating  how  he  had  better  finish  up,  the 
bay,  gas  or  poison,  and  the  child  came  up  and 
spoke  to  him." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

She  said,  "Man,  does  'oo  feel  bad  tause 


46        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

'oo  tan't  find  'oo's  Mudder  ?  'Oo'll  find  'oo's 
Mudder  if  'oo  teeps  on  'ookin' !"  He  said 
he  straightened  up  and  thought  that  he  had 
not  considered  his  dear  old  mother  at  all,  how 
it  would  break  her  heart  to  hear  her  boy  was 
a  suicide,  and  tried  again." 

"I  don't  wonder  you  let  him  have  the 
money,"  said  Mrs.  Sherwood. 

"He  was  deeply  grateful  to  me,  but  most 
of  all  to  that  child.  The  clerk  had  told  him 
of  our  loss  and  that  we  were  talking  of  find 
ing  a  child  to  take  home.  He  wanted  me  to 
come  over  and  see  this  one.  Said  this  aunt 
told  him  her  mother  died  sometime  ago.  The 
child  has  been  talking  of  finding  her  ever 
since,  and  the  woman  seeming  so  discour 
aged  and  out  of  work  he  thought  maybe  she 
would  let  us  have  her.  But  I  told  him  I  was 
looking  for  a  child  of  unquestionable  paren 
tage,  and  didn't  go.  She  is  evidently  of  bad 
stock.  I  think  it  is  the  same  crew  we  heard 
of  in  New  York  City  at  that  cafe."  "That 
was  very  sweet  though,  dear!"  Mr.  Sher 
wood  looked  up  to  see  tears  in  his  wife's  eyes. 

"Sounds  so  much  like  the  things  our  baby 

used  to   say.      Can't  we   go   and  see   her?" 

"Well,  we  might  tomorrow  morning  if  you 

feel  able."     But  in  the  morning  a  tiresome 

•trip  to  the  number  given  by  the  young  man 


Ships  That  Pass  in  llic  Night          47 

Mr.  Sherwood  had  befriended,  resulted  in  be 
ing  informed  that  the  woman  and  child  had 
left. 

"Took  the  train  East  last  night,"  said  the 
landlady.  "No,  I  don't  know  where.  Guess 
she  didn't  know,  either,  poor  sick  thing." 
And  so,  the  Sherwoods  went  south  while  Kate 
and  her  little  companion  were  painfully  jour 
neying  eastward,  the  woman  defraying  the 
expenses  by  stopping  at  several  towns  and 
having  the  child  sing  at  any  convenient  cafe 
where  it  would  be  allowed,  until  the  Middle 
West  was  reached.  And  once  more  the 
waters  rolled  between. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  ROSE  FOR  THE  QUEEN 

"A  little  Motherless  Maid!     What  is  more  piti 
ful  in  the  eyes  of  Men  and  of  Angels?" 

— Hillmer. 

®HERE  is  no  need  of  tracing  step  by 
step  the  sad  story  from  this  point,  for 
when  Kate  Flynn's  health  began  to  break, 
from  her  course  of  life  before  finding  the 
child,  a  few  weeks  only  sufficed  to  transform 
her  into  the  ghost  of  her  former  self.  Tell 
ing  so  often  the  story  she  had  invented  about 
Blessing,  she  had  come  to  the  point  where 
she  almost  believed  it  herself.  From  hating 
children,  she  had  grown  to  love  this  one,  and 
small  wonder.  Her  whole  life  had  been 
changed  and  was  now  regulated  according  to 
what  the  child  would  say  and  do.  Those 
who  had  known  wild  Kate  some  four  years 
back,  would  certainly  not  know  her  now,  look 
ing  forward  to  putting  Blessing  to  bed,  and 
listening  to  her  childish  prattle.  It  seemed 
that  conscience  spoke  at  times  through  the 
child  as  she  asked  Kate  question  after  ques- 


A  Rose  for  the  Queen  49 

tion  as  to  her  own  '"ittle  dirls,"  where  they 
were,  what  they  said  and  did  and  what  their 
names  were,  until  many  a  wakeful  night  was 
the  result.  As  Kate  grew  steadily  weaker, 
unable  to  work  or  to  do  for  the  child,  no 
avenue  of  help  and  hope  opened  save  one. 

In  the  Middle  West,  whither  they  had 
wandered,  some  freak  of  fortune  threw  in 
their  way  another  factory  girl  whom  Kate 
had  known  in  bygone  days. 

Herself  easily  drifting,  tired  of  hard  work, 
she  was  unaffectedly  glad  to  see  Kate,  taking 
her  and  the  child  to  what  she  called  home 
after  finding  how  ill  and  poor  the  woman 
was.  Here  she  cared  for  her  in  memory  of 
the  old  days,  although  giving  scant  welcome 
to  the  child. 

When,  some  days  afterward,  Kate  sud 
denly  died  (holding  Blessing's  two  chubby 
hands  for  lack  of  older  ministration,  as  she 
stepped  forth  into  the  vast  unknown),  this 
woman  gave  her  decent  burial,  making  a  sol 
emn  promise  (which  she  soon  forgot)  to  try 
and  find  Blessing's  parents. 

She  also  wondered  what  had  so  changed 
Kate,  and  what  she  meant  by  talking  the  way 
she  did  of  not  being  afraid  to  die,  but  only 
afraid  to  leave  the  baby.  For  so  had  baby 
hands  worked  a  miracle. 


50        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

Then  Blessing  ( wondering  why  Auntie  slept 
so  long),  unwanted,  a  monument  of  reproach 
to  those  around  her,  was  neglected  and  abused 
until  her  long-suffering  guardian  angel  flut 
tered  a  little  nearer  and  took  her  by  the  hand. 

By  slow  stages,  the  Sherwoods  were  travel 
ing  east,  two  months  later,  hopeless  of  ever 
finding  their  own  child,  as  daily  reports  still 
came  in  from  detectives  over  the  country,  but 
trying  hard  to  rise  above  their  grief  in  search 
ing  for  a  little  girl  to  take  her  place.  When 
the  little  party  alighted  at  the  Union  Station 
in  Denver,  preparatory  to  looking  through 
an  institution  there,  the  mother-heart  almost 
burst  with  fresh  grief. 

"Let's  not  try  to  do  it,  dear,"  and  Mrs. 
Sherwood  laid  her  hand  beseechingly  on  her 
husband's  arm.  "I  can't  love  a  child;  my 
heart  is  broken;  I  have  tried  to  think  I  could. 
I  didn't  mean  to  deceive  you,  dear,  but  it  was 
my  sense  of  duty  all  the  time,  and  my  wish  to 
help  you  do  what  you  wanted  to  for  the 
best, —  but  my  baby !  My  precious  Blessing ! 
Oh!  I  will  give  anything,  but  not  her  dear 
place  in  my  heart!" 

"Don't  give  it,  dearest,"  and  Mr.  Sher 
wood's  voice  was  very  tender;  "just  share  it, 
as  you  told  me  long  ago;  it  was  that  that  set 
me  thinking." 


A  Rose  for  the  Queen 


51 


I 


"Oh!     I  see  it  now,  John!     Just  to  let  her        <•*£} 
share  my  baby's  place,  and  love  and  keep  on   ^XH^ 
loving  Blessing  just  the  same,"  and  the  light  //^^"^ 
that  came  for  a  moment  into  the  sorrowing 
face  made  Mr.  Sherwood  think  of  the  bygone 
days,  so  happy  and  so  far  removed. 

The  place  to  which  the  Sherwoods'  steps 
were  directed  was  a  rambling  brick-and-frame 
structure,  evidently  overcrowded  but  with  a 
large  yard  and  ample  playground,  whose 
swings  and  sand  piles  were  suggestive  of  good 
times.  There  were  baby  faces  at  the  win 
dows,  children  in  the  playground  and  little 
babies  in  the  nursery.  The  lady  Superintend 
ent  and  the  Matron  met  them  at  the  door  and 
cheerfully  produced  the  stock  of  children  at 
command.  There  were  brown-eyed  waifs, 
and  little  orphans  with  blue  eyes  and  flaxen 
hair,  but  some  way,  among  them  all,  there 
was  not  one  who  seemed  to  fill  the  bill  of 
requirements.  The  only  child  who  came  near 
the  idea  the  Sherwoods  had  in  mind  was  a 
boy  of  four,  sweet  and  lovable  and  needing  a 
home,  but  still  a  boy.  There  were  some 
of  the  sweetest  babies  in  the  world,  all  too 
small.  There  was  a  boy  brought  in  while  they 
were  there,  in  rags  and  filth,  and  speedily 
transformed  into  a  fine,  interesting  child  by 
the  application  of  soap  and  water  and  new 


52         The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

clothing.      Mr.   Sherwood   shook   his   head. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  the  hospital  ward 
before  you  go?"  inquired  the  Matron,  and  so 
the  once  more  disappointed  searchers  passed 
down  the  long  room,  looking  with  sympathy 
upon  the  little  ones  with  various  defects  and 
afflictions. 

"Are  these  all  hopeless?"  asked  Mr.  Sher 
wood. 

"No,  sir;  many  are  curable  if  we  could 
afford  the  expense.  Now,  that  girl  over  there 
in  the  invalid  chair,  Nellie  her  name  is  (point 
ing  to  a  plain-looking  girl  about  the  age  of 
Rosemary),  can  be  made  to  walk  if  someone 
would  spend  a  thousand  dollars  or  so  on  her, 
and  there  are  some  other  cases.  Nell  has  a 
wonderful  talent  for  drawing,  and  I  am  sure 
could  sing,  too,  if  she  were  taught.  But  what 
is  the  use?" 

"These  are  the  left-overs,  you  might  say. 
No  one  wants  a  cripple,"  and  the  Matron 
sighed.  "People  are  so  selfish.  They  think 
they  are  doing  such  a  noble  thing,  but  I  take 
notice  no  one  wants  a  child  with  the  least 
defect  or  that  they  can  really  help.  They 
must  be  beautiful,  of  fine  antecedents,  and 
exactly  right."  Here  memory  gave  Mr. 
Sherwood  a  most  unpleasant  nudge.  The 
girl's  appealing  eyes  were  fixed  on  them  as 


A  Rose  for  the  Queen  53 

they  passed.  "This  one  never  had  a  chance 
of  any  sort,  but  she  is  sweet  and  bright."  Mr. 
Sherwood  caught  his  wife's  eye  and  a  look  of 
complete  understanding  passed  between  them. 

"Get  that  child's  hat,"  he  said,  hurriedly. 
"If  money  and  love  can  cure  her,  here  goes, 
music  and  drawing  thrown  in."  Mrs.  Sher 
wood  and  Rosemary  kissed  the  thin  cheeks, 
feeling  (though  never  would  they  have  ac 
knowledged  it)  a  rather  selfish  joy  that  ( as  this 
girl  was  so  much  older)  Blessing's  place  was  to 
be  kept  sacred.  To  their  surprise,  however, 
the  girl  gave  no  answering  smile,  but  drew 
back  and  said,  "I  can't  go;  don't  ask  me." 

"How  funny  of  her!"  remarked  the  Ma 
tron.  "She  has  been  crazy  to  get  away." 

"I  couldn't  possibly  leave  my  baby." 

"What  does  she  mean?"  asked  Rosemary. 

"There  is  a  child  in  one  of  the  private  hos 
pital  rooms,  who  came  in  three  days  ago,  and 
took  a  violent  fancy  to  Nellie.  Our  Super 
intendent  rescued  her  from  a  doubtful  sort  of 
woman  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city.  The 
woman  had  a  most  ungovernable  temper, 
aside  from  her  general  reputation  making  it 
impossible  to  leave  a  child  in  her  care." 

"How  dreadful !  Did  the  woman  abuse 
her?"  and  Mrs.  Sherwood's  sympathetic  face 
expressed  more  than  words. 


54        The  Quest  of  "Little  Blessing" 

"Who  were  her  parents?"  This  from  Mr. 
Sherwood. 

"No  one  can  find  out.  She  had  been  pun 
ished  for  nothing,  I  am  sure,  for  she  is  very 
sweet,  and  was  badly  bruised  from  the  effects 
of  it  all.  Her  little  nerves  are  about  wrecked. 
She  screams  from  fear  when  left  alone  or  at 
night.  From  the  first  she  took  kindly  to 
Nellie,  and  Nellie,  being  so  alone  and  crip 
pled,  worships  her." 

Who  shall  deny  that  right  here  the  listening 
angel  could  endure  no  more,  and  touched  Mr. 
Sherwood's  heart  with  love,  and  he  uttered  ( in 
to  him  an  unknown  tongue),  "Bring  her  on, 
too.  By  George,  Minnie,  what's  the  matter 
with  gathering  up  a  whole  family?  Who's 
with  the  youngster  now?"  "One  of  the  older 
children  is  relieving  Nell,"  responded  the  Ma 
tron.  "Her  case  does  not  require  a  trained 
nurse  so  much  as  a  cheerful  companion.  Will 
you  look  ather?"  "Sure, "said  Mr. Sherwood. 

"The  girl  is  reading  to  her,"  said  the  Ma 
tron.  "The  children  are  all  fond  of  Hans 
Andersen's  Fairy  Tales,  and  this  baby  can 
understand  some  of  it." 

Through  the  slightly  opened  door  the 
listeners  heard  the  girl's  voice  and  paused  a 
moment  on  the  threshold.  She  read  halt 
ingly  but  with  great  feeling : 


A  Rose  for  the  Queen  55 

"There  lived  once  a  great  Queen,  in  whose 
gardens  were  found  the  most  splendid  flow 
ers,  in  all  seasons  and  from  every  land  in  the 
world.  She  especially  loved  roses,  and  there 
fore  she  had  the  most  beautiful  varieties  of 
this  flower,  from  the  wild  hedge  rose  with  its 
apple-scented  leaves,  to  the  splendid  Provence 
rose. 

"But  care  and  sorrow  dwelt  within  these 
walls.  The  Queen  lay  upon  a  sick  bed,  and 
the  doctors  declared  that  she  must  die. 

"  'There  is  still  one  thing  that  could  save 
her,'  said  one  of  the  wisest  among  them. 
'Bring  her  the  loveliest  rose  in  the  world,  one 
which  exhibits  the  purest  and  brightest  love, 
and  if  it  is  brought  to  her  before  her  eyes 
close  she  will  not  die.' ' 

Then  a  voice,  faint  but  thrilling:  "Poor 
keen;  me  sorry  for  poor  sick  keen.  If  me 
had  a  wose  me  would  dive  it  to  her."  Here, 
looking  up  at  the  beautiful,  frail  lady  in  the 
door,  whose  arms  were  outstretched  and 
whose  pale  face  was  lighted  and  transfigured 
with  joy  inexpressible,  little  Blessing  added, 
"Is  'oo  the  keen,  poor  sick  'adie?"  Then,  as 
her  baby  memory  rallied  to  her  aid  old  half- 
forgotten  images,  with  the  low,  glad  cry  of 
"Mudderl"  she  sprang  into  the  waiting  arms, 
her  quest  ended. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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THE  LIBRAR 
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3505  Queslof 

. 
Blessing* 


A     000919235     2 


PS 

3505 

C535q 


